Battle Navigator

Turn 2 (you are here)

Turn 2

In the last episode, we watched as the dark elves were pounded into the floor by the remorseless war engines of the dwarves, whilst the Orcs & Goblins imploded on themselves with animosity.

In turn 2, things are a bit more...straightforward.

Straightforward in that some of soldiers were afforded the opportunity to let the enemy know exactly how they felt about things and to clear the air a bit - discuss their differences, if you will.

With weapons.

The turn starts like this

Movement Phase

Only two units failed animosity checks this turn, giving Thantsants some modicum of control over his army this turn. Not one to waste opportunities like that, Thantsants directed Rogaine to hurl himself at the chariot! Not only that, but Master B'tor and the recently appointed Seaman Sprayes, filled with the hatred of a thousand years, climbed the hill before them at pace to introduce themselves to the wood elves at the top.

Airbornegrove, not to be outdone, responded by sending his brave commander to apply some discipline to the witch elves. The witch elves, always keen on disciplinarians, responded to the charge by holding.

With such an exciting set of opening moves, the remaining moves seemed positively mundane. Everyone else moved closer to everyone else. Of note, perhaps, would be dwarven left electing to step into the icy cold River Chai as they start trying to find their way across.

As with grand slam tennis (always a favourite with the orcs when they have the time), an observer would note the perfect unison with which Rogaine's Lamentable Regiment of Boworcs moved their heads as they watched the gyrocopted clatter overhead. As one, they slowly turned around, beady eyes firmly locked on the amazing flying machine, so dedicated to their new purpose that they hadn't noticed they were not facing the dwarven line anymore...

Actions

GM:

WL

Moved forward 8"

GF

Suffers animosity @ RGH, moved forward 3.5"

KYP

Suffers animosity @ SBB, wheeled right 3.5"

Airbornegrove:

KBP2

Shot @ MB, wounded 0

LTK

Charged @ WoP

I

Moved forward 3"

F

Moved forward 3"

S

Moved forward 3"

MF

Moved forward 3"

A2C

Moved forward 1.5" @ difficult ground

MO

Moved forward 3" @ difficult ground

TT

Flyed @ level +10, accl. 8", current speed 16"

Thantsants:

WoP

Holds

SOC

Charged @ KBP2

MB

Charged @ KBP2

RGH

Charged @ WL

W

Moved forward 5" @ RGH right flank

RLR

Turned around

K3C

Moved forward 3.5"

CGC

Changed formation to 6 files, moved forward 0.5"

SBB

Turned left

***

Meedy Ochre loved his job. He knew that other giants were employed in construction, or milling, or other intensive labour roles. Other giants were almost feral, just wandering around the mountains eating raw food and sleeping in caves.

For his part, he felt he had it pretty good: he'd had beer for breakfast, a small beer top up for tea just before the battle and he was looking forward to some beer for dinner. As a job, he got to mangle little people and eat anything he found. Nico Teehn was good to him.

In fact, the only part he didn't like was the complex business Nico referred to as the rules of engagement. The rules of engagement were dictated to all of Nico's chaps, but Nico always took Meedy through the rules again afterwards, just to make sure.

This battle's rules were complex. Just thinking about them made his head hurt. Scrunching his forehead in concentration, he rested up against a tree as he recalled what Nico had said earlier that morning.

***

"Got that, Meedy? Yeah? Okay - now you tell me what the rules are."

Meedy nodded slowly. He lifted his massive leg to make sure that Nico could see his knee. Pointing at the knobbly appendage, he said: "anyone lower than this gets crumped."

Nico smiled as he shook his head. "No, not quite. Try again."

Meedy, still holding his knee up, scratched his eyebrow and strained to recall the rules. A long silence followed. The giant swayed dangerously as his eyes explored the surrounding scenery, his brain furiously scrounging for any applicable fact that might satisfy Nico. Eventually, his gaze settled on Nico, quiet desperation evident all over his unshaven countenance.

Nico patted the big fellow. "Go on, buddy. Put the leg down. Both feet on the floor, then try again."

Meedy dropped the knee, his boat-like foot slamming into the ground. The impact seemed to jog his memory. Relief washed over his face.

"Ur," he grunted. This time he bent down and pointed to his knee. "Anyone lower than this gets crumped?"

Nico breathed out slowly. I suppose I should take what I can get, he thought. "Unless?"

Unless? The giant was crestfallen. "Can't you just point like we did the last time?"

Nico patted the poor giant. "I know it's hard. I'm sorry - but we have to get this right. Remember the last time? They wanted a refund 'cos of that, so we need to get this right, okay? It's the last rule, you're nearly there!"

"Ur. Okay," muttered the sullen giant.

"So, pointy ears that are taller than your knee and..."

"Is it a colour thing?"

Nico nodded excitedly. "Go on..."

"Is it that purpley ones are bad and greeny ones are good?"

"High five!" yelled Nico, before instantly regretting it as he flew through the air...

***

Shooting Phase

Thrilled at the opportunity to see their warriors beat the stuffing out of the enemy, it appears that none of the heavy hitting stone throwers were able to find their mark. Still, in spite of that, the dwarves still caused the deaths of nine greenskins.

This was partly achieved by the dwarves taking a chance and firing through the mystic mist. The dwarves, having both long memories and what could only be described as 'a target rich environment', are able to broadly recall the rough direction of the large horde of orcs on the other side of the river, and place a cannon ball squarely into a unit of goblins.

Elves are renowned in classic fantasy for their shooting skills. This being a classic game of warhammer, you are right to expect the same of the elves fielded here - as, no doubt, did their respective commanders. But in a rare display of bilateralism, it appears that neither wood elf nor dark elf could bring themselves to slay their opposites. Perhaps we really are entering the age of forgiveness?

And last, but not least, the gyrocopter pilot, having already caused more confusion in the orc line, produces a bomb and a light. Unquenchable gravity, the erstwhile friend of the common orc, combined with said bomb and light to produce an explosive outcome for the orc archers!

Actions

Airbornegrove:

KBP1

Shot @ SQC, wounded 0

A1C

Shot @ K3C, wounded 4

MF

Shot @ W (spider), wounded 0

TT

Dropped bomb @ RLR, wounded 3

C

Shot @ RLR deviated @ CGC, wounded 2, +1 heat point

BT

Shot @ RLR deviated @ RLR, wounded 0

E

Shot @ RLR deviated, missed

Thantsants:

SQC

Shot @ KBP1, wounded 0

RLR

Shot @ TT, wounded 0

CGC

Shot @ TT, wounded 0

SC

Shot @ TT, wounded 0

MM

Shot @ E deviated, missed

Combat Phase

Something not often mentioned in warhammer canon from 4th edition onwards is the awful stench of the cold ones. So great is it that the Dark Elves kill their olfactory nerves with drugs in order to put up with the creatures.

I mention this because, of course, the Wood Elves have not had occasion (or desire) to do the same. Presented, as they were, with Master B'tor and his overexcited cold one, they were overwhelmed by the terrifying odour of the thing. Despite being pushed back by the slightest of margins, the Wood Elves fled in horror, only to be cut down by the brutal sea captain. Even Seaman Sprayes managed to stab a Wood Elf in the back!

Rogaine snatched potential victory from the Dwarves and Wood Elves by snatching the Percolator from the war wain in a daring high speed robbery - the ultimate outcome leading to the demise of the chariot and the separation of the chariot from its horses. Dwarven infantry, experienced in the unfathomable savagery of horses, watched with suspicion and no small level of discomfort as they realised the bloody creatures were on the loose again!

The Wood Elf captain cut a a heroic silhouette atop the hill as he skillfully defended it against the Witch Elves, pushing them tumbling back down the rocks they had climbed!

Actions

LTK vs WoP

Round 1

Modifiers

LTK

charged, higher ground

WoP

hatred

Attacks

A1 I8

LTK -> DE1 (1W)

A2 I7

LTK -> DE2 (1W)

Results

LTK

+1 (charged) +2 (wounds) = 3

WoP

0

MB vs KBP2

Round 1

Modifiers

MB

charged, hatred

KBP2

none

Attacks

A1 I10

MB -> WE2

A2 I9

MB -> WE2

A3 I8

MB -> WE3

A4 I7

MB -> WE3 (1W)

A1 I6

MB's mount <- WE2

Results

MB

+1 (charged) +1 (wounds) = 2

KBP2

+1 (ranks) = 1

SOC vs KBP2

Round 1

Modifiers

MB

charged, hatred

KBP2

none

Attacks

A1 I6

Seaman Sprayes -> WE4

A1 I6

Seaman Sprayes <- WE4

A1 I6

Seaman Sprayes <- WE5

A4 I5

Seaman Sprayes -> WE5

Results

MB

+1 (charged) = 1

KBP2

+1 (ranks) = 1

RGH vs WL

Round 1

Modifiers

RGH

charged

WL

none

Attacks

A1 I3

War Boar1 -> WL (1W)

A1 I3

War Boar2 -> WL (1W)

A1 I3

War Boar4 -> WL (1W)

A1 I2

Orc1 -> WL (1W)

A1 I2

Orc2 -> WL (1W)

A1 I2

Orc4 -> WL

Results

RGH

+1 (charged) +5 (wounds) = 6

WL

0

Round 2

Modifiers

RGH

none

WL

none

Attacks

A1 I3

War Boar1 -> WL (1W)

A1 I3

War Boar2 -> WL

A1 I3

War Boar4 -> WL

A1 I2

Orc1 -> WL

A1 I2

Orc2 -> WL

A1 I2

Orc4 -> WL (1W)

Results

RGH

+2 (wounds) = 2

WL

0

***

Strikneen looked over his shoulder. "No way, boss! No way we should take that!" His gaze settled on the positively vile Fireguts and their antagonistic leader, Gaversconne. "Did you hear what he jes' called us?"

He looked back at Rogaine to see what he planned to do about it. Rogaine seemed to have other things on his mind.

"Rogaine? Rogaine! Did you hear him? He called you a-"

"CHARGE!" Rogaine roared.

"No, he didn't call you a char... oh. Right, okay. You meant charge, as in charge at the elves, okay." Strikneen issued a savage kick to his boar as Rogaine and his boar riders thundered ahead of him in a cacophony of whoops, squeals and grunts.

***

Sebbast Iyanvettl grimaced as he watched the orcs issue chase. "Ready yourselves!" he yelled to the rest of the crew. Cracking the whip just above the rump of the desperate horses, he screeched the secret elven words he'd learned from his horse whispering master.

"Gerronwivit! Oritztheglufac toreeferya!"

Hooves pounded.

Heels kicked.

Whips cracked.

Riders whooped.

In the end, even the secret words of power were not enough to escape the wrath of the orcs as they descended on the hapless chariot.

***

Rogaine grinned at his elven counterpart as eye contact was made. Rogaine loved the chase. The only thing better was a high speed fight. He waved his sword in challenge and drew up next to the chariot.

***

How inelegant these creatures are, thought Sebbast, as he watched the silly bouncing of the massive orc on the squealing boar. How the gods tolerate these very stains on our existence I will never know...

***

Rogaine feigned a lunge with his sword, causing Sebbast to lean backwards, hanging onto the reigns to keep his balance. The effect was enough to slow the horses, giving Rogaine and his boys enough time to encircle the chariot, raining blow after blow on elf and chariot alike.

Suddenly, there was a gap in the elven defenses. Rogaine's eyes narrowed as he perceived the little chest bouncing cheerfully on the floor of the racing chariot. Pulling his boar right up to the chariot, inches away from its thundering wheel, he elbowed Sebbast out of the way, scooping the little box up into the air with the flat of his blade. Both the elf and the orc watched as the box arced up into the air.

Time slowed as a gnarled, dirty orc hand unfolded beneath the box. As it unfolded, a small flat piece of wood cracked against Rogaine's bare palm.

The pain was excrutiating. Whipping his hand back, Rogaine roared in rage as the box dropped back into the chariot.

But the elf, having slapped Rogaine's palm, was not done. He continued the downward motion, slapping the wood against the rump of Rogaine's boar. The creature started in fright, heaving straight into the chariot before falling beneath the wheel, taking Rogaine with it!

***

Sebbast sneered as he slammed his wooden ruler into the open palm of the brute. Years of being a school teacher had uniquely equipped him with the ability to deliver a critical strike to an unsuspecting hand, stopping mischief both in the school room and now on the battlefield. He grinned as he watched the shock spread across the giant orc's face: nothing that small had the right to hurt so much! They all have the same expression, he thought. Kids and orcs alike.

His undoing was capitalising on the next opportunity: as the orc leaned back, Sebbast carried his precision strike down to the boar, slapping its rump with a resounding crack. The boar pushed into the chariot, causing the orc to bash against the rail, before both rider and boar vanished from sight.

Now a chariot at high speed running into a stone, say, the size of a mouse, would cause a significant jolt to machine and crew. Were the stone a little larger, perhaps something like a load of bread, the wheel and chariot might lurch into the air - assuming the wheel survived the impact.

A chariot rolling over a rabid pig and his twenty-two stone master is a whole different kettle of fish. The entire chariot launched itself into the air, both wheels spinning freely. Casual observers would later remark that the chariot would have cleared four and a half feet at the highest point of its short flight.

***

Time ground to a halt as Rogaine perceived the sudden silence. Above him, a chariot flew. There was motion, but it was slow - so slow. The wheels turned slightly. There was a slow creak. Spraying sand and tufts of grass floated in his vision. From somewhere behind or below him there came an almost indignant squawk - was that Piggles? A semi-circle of slobber hovered in the air. Something glinted above him. Was it Percolator? He watched his bleeding knuckles slowly - ponderously - claw into the air.

His hand came away with a silver metal object.

***

Sebbast knew that the orc had gone under the chariot. That much was evident by the four foot leap the chariot had taken. His concern wasn't for the chariot landing; it was a good elven chariot and had been built from the boughs from one thousand year old silver oaks - it would be fine. His concerns were twofold: one - no part of his body was touching the chariot, and two - no part of the little box Percolator was in was touching the chariot. As his body tipped forwards, he realised that he would be fortunate - the chariot was underneath him and he'd land, painfully, back in it.

But as he tumbled, he perceived the box through his flailing legs. It floated gracefully backwards, its trajectory carrying it neatly to the orc leader, still rolling after being spat out from under the chariot.

***

Gripping the metal tightly, Rogaine rolled once more, this time reaching his hand out to steady his landing, meaning that he should stop on he's knees. He felt the jolt in his shoulder as his hand carried the impact of the hit straight through his massive frame. But he was upright.

His quick eyes caught sight of the elegant little box driving through the air towards him. Instinct kicked in. He'd played fullback on the tribes bugry team for years, and knew better than any other how to keep cool when catching a ball under pressure. Rising up from his knees and into the air in one swift motion, he caught the box squarely in his arms, hugging it to his chest before the thudded back into the ground.

***

Sebbast cursed. As he belly flopped into the chariot's base, he caught sight of the orc catching the Percolator. He registered the confusion on the orcs face as it held up a long silver object. Sebbast's eyes focussed on it - that looked strangely like a-

The air was rent with the sound of a splintering snap.

-like a locking bolt. For the axle. Where'd he get that from?

***

Rogaine, still clutching the box, squinted at the long bolt in his hands. Not the Percolator, then. Looking past the bolt, he made eye contact with Sebbast, lying as he was on his belly in the chariot. Just before the chariot flipped, Rogaine learned an elven expletive:

"Oh Faaaaaaaarrk!"

***

Reserves Phase

The reserves phase was everything you hoped it would be: troops in reserve moved.

Again, curiously, both Wood Elves and Goblins turned their backs on the fighting lines as they faced threats (real and potential) to their rears.

Oh, and two drug-addled, adrenaline fuelled, over-zealous goblin fanatics lurched forth from their containing unit as it moved into range of the Dwarf right flank. Each managed to add one entry to the obituaries in The Daily Chainmail.

Actions

GM:

WL

Skidded forward 3" @ rock

WLH

Moved 8" @ left bridge

Airbornegrove:

KBP1

Wheeled from the center 2" (complex manoeuvre)

I

Moved forward 3", changed formation to 5 files, failed 2nd manoeuvre

F

Moved forward 3"

S

Moved forward 3"

Thantsants:

F1

Moved forward 8" @ S, wounded 1

F2

Moved forward 9" @ S, wounded 1

W

Moved forward 5" @ RGH

K3C

Moved forward 2.5", halted within 4" of enemy

CGC

Turned around

Magic Phase

With the Mystic Mist still in place, Wineghum called on his darkest knowledge and summoned forth the dead to serve him. Unfickle sorcery cares not for its candidates, as the flesh shrived off the bodies of Wood and Dark Elves alike. The deceased float, crawl and run across the field to stand to attention before their new master...

And the dwarves shoot a fireball.

C'mon - its fantasy. There's gotta be a fireball, right? The dwarven left flank reveals its magic standard, but unfortunately, fails to inflict any casualties on the Orc cavalry.

Actions

Airbornegrove:

F

Shot fireball @ RGH, wounded 0

Thantsants:

W

Summoned 13 skeletons, 26 MP remaining

Well there you have it. Combat! Objectives being met! High speed chariot stunts! The dead raised! And all in turn 2!

Battle Navigator

Turn 1 (you are here)

Turn 1

Righto - we're away! Thantsants and Airbornegrove have said gentlemanly things to each other, issued some sort of virtual handshake under the stern virtual gaze of Dreamfish, the games master, which leaves nothing other then the business of describing the decidedly ungentlemanly acts that ensued.

These are they.

Again, because there are orcs on the table, of course, the thing we are faced with is animosity. I love animosity. You love animosity. Airbornegrove loves animosity. Thantsants... well, I think he might have a love-hate thing going right now with animosity. With more than half of the main combat units in his line failing animosity before they'd even moved, let us suggest that hate is the waxing emotion, with love distinctly waning.

Also, don't forget that the chariot is GM controlled, so all of the 'involuntary' movement is handled before any other movement. Fortunately for all involved, the chariot careens down the ramp, straight into the middle of the table.

So, catastrophe's determined - turn 1 started like this:

The turn starts like this

Movement Phase

Thantsants moved those troops he had control over (that is, the dark elves...), whilst Airbornegrove enjoyed complete freedom of choice with his many and varied units. The Giant started wading across the river, whilst the gyrocopter pilot gunned the engine and drove the device into the air, becoming the first dwarf on the other side of the river.

Curiously, the wood elves elected to leave the chariot to its own devices, choosing instead to capitalise on the vantage point they had over the dark elves by nocking arrows to their bows...

Note the witch elves forming up into column in order to climb the cliff and take the wood elves on at their own level!

Actions

GM:

WL

Moved forward 8"

GF

Suffers animosity @ RGH, wheeled left 3.5"

RLR

Suffers animosity @ RGH, wheeled right 3.5"

CGC

Suffers animosity @ K3C, moved forward 3.5"

SBB

Suffers animosity @ K3C, moved forward 3.5", turned right

Airbornegrove:

I

Moved forward 3"

F

Moved forward 3"

S

Moved forward 3"

MF

Moved forward 3"

MO

Moved forward 3" @ difficult ground

TT

Flyed @ attack level, accl. 8", current speed 8"

KBP1

Wheeled right 4"

Thantsants:

WoP

Turned left, moved forward 2.5" @ difficult ground

SOC

Wheeled left 4"

MB

Moved forward 2" @ KBP1

SQC

Wheeled left 4"

RGH

Moved forward 6"

W

Moved forward 5"

K3C

Moved forward 3.5"

KYP

Moved forward 3.5"

***

"Nah, I still don't get it. Tell me again - why's they got it in for Rogaine?"

Exlax sighed as he looked over at Immodeyum. "C'mon, orc - how many times I gots to tell ya?"

"Look, I don't understand, okay? It sounded complicated."

"Well it ain't. It's like this -"

"Hang on,boys. Let's just stack these bolts up first and get the thrower in place," Prunjus said, waving his hands at the other two. They were new to his crew, so they hadn't really Had Their Jobs Explained To Them.

"We'll get it done in a minute," Exlax grumbled.

"No. We'll do it now. The reason how come the last two I had is gone an' I've been lumbered with you two is 'cos Rogaine Explained Their Jobs To Them so hard they died. Now I ain't gonna miss 'em, an' I ain't gonna miss you, but I ain't Having My Job Explained To Me by Rogaine again, see?"

With that firm warning, the crew lumbered the warmachine into place and readied it to fire. Almost on queue, Rogaine's powerful voice echoed across the valley below as he instructed the orc line to advance. In the distance, Prunjus and the boys could see elves descending into the valley, chasing a chariot being driven so fast it was hard to think of it as being under control.

"Rioght - back to Rogaine now," Exlax said, leaning up against the bolt thrower. The crew looked down and watched as the orc line began the advance, before slowly starting to collapse in on itself.

"Bleedin' 'ell," Immodeyum muttered, watching with fascination as each unit flanking Rogaine's cavalry started folding in on him, their insults reverberating off the valley walls. "I knew they was upset, but they ain't even started yet!"

"How come? Tell me, orc - what's goin' on?" Exlax whined.

Immodeyum held up his hands in a placating manner. "Now I don't know this, right - it's all just rumours and some such, okay? You didn't hear none of it from me-"

"So Gaversconne's been wanton' to take over from Rogaine for a while, right?"

"Right," nodded Exlax.

"And it turns out, that sneaky young Gaversconne's been seein' Rogaine's lady."

"He ain't got a lady?"

"Damn right she ain't a lady. Anyhow, Rogaine don't know it, cos if he did, Gaversconne'd-"

"What - like a real girl?" Exlax asked, his eyes wide open.

"Yeah," said Immodeyum. "Like a real girl. Try an' keep up, okay?"

"So's anyway, Gaversconne's no doubt been trying to get 'is Fireguts to get all angry about Rogaine, which is wots happening down there, see?" Immodeyum pointed at the black orcs, who had wheeled about to face Rogaine's unit's flank.

"They look angry," Exlax said.

"They is. Apparently - remember, all rumours, an' not from me, right - he's told them Rogaine ain't no proper back orc 'cos he hangs out with regular orcs like them wots on the boars, right? Gaversconne reckons Rogaine should be headin' up black orcs. 'Course, he's worked out that's what he does, so he can't have that neither, right?"

Exlax had a pained expression on his face. "Er...right?" He scrunched up his face as he considered this last sentence. "Actually, not right. Who can't have wot neither?"

Immodyum shook his head. "Gaversconne can't have Rogaine trying to take over the Fireguts, right? Cos that's what Gaversconne does. What would Gaversconne do if Rogaine led his boys?"

"I should imagine he'd like a break, really - maybe a bit of a holiday? I sure could do with a holiday."

"Yeah? You ever see a black orc take a holiday-"

"Sorry to interrupt, boys, but we'd better get on and shoot smoothing," Prunjus said, handing a bolt over to Exlax. "Otherwise the only holiday youse two is gonna see is when yer heads get to take a break from yer bodies courtesy of me."

"Fine, fine," mumbled Exlax, racking up the bolt. "What should we shoot?"

"Don't care," Prunjus grunted, setting himself onto the floor. He doffed his helmet over his eyes, reclined against a rock and said: "I don't care what you shoot, as long as you shoot something, okay? Every now and then, you shoot something. Wake me up if you have problems."

Exlax raised an eyebrow to Immodeyum. Immodeyum shrugged.

"Lets shoot that flying thing," he suggested.

Exlax nodded. Together, they wheeled the machine around, pointing it more or less where they anticipated the dwarves flying contraption to be, before releasing the bolt.

"That was an awful shot," Immodyum chuckled, watching the bolt sail into the trees on the other side of the valley.

"Don't matter," Exlax said. "Okay, so Gaversconne's riled up his boys to 'ave a go at Rogaine, right?"

"Yer, that's it."

"Wot about this lot 'ere?" Exlax pointed at the orc archers, who had just fired a volley at Rogaine's gruntas.

"Them lot's got no leader no more, see?"

"Oh, really? How come?"

"He was also seein' Rogaine's lady."

Exlax scrunched his face up again. "Hang on. So Rogaine's got a lady, but that bloke - Gavin or something - " he pointed at the black orcs, "is also sweet with her. But so's this new chap - can't remember 'is name now-"

"Didn't say his name, dope. Don't matter, 'cos he's dead. Rogaine went proper spare when he found out. See this rope we's using for the bolt thrower? That's his guts."

"I wish I could meet Rogaine's lady. She sounds nice."

"Are you listening to me?" Immodeyum barked, tapping his finger on Exlax's forehead. These," he brandished the rope under the nose of the other orc, "are his guts!"

Exlax blinked, the rope so close to his face he was struggling to focus on it. A long silence followed.

Eventually, Exlax moved the rope away from his face. Immodeyum nodded, glad that the other orc understood.

Exlax looked down at the shouting orcs. Eventually, none had elected to attack Rogaine and his boys. His eyes drifted to the black orcs. Gaversconne was cheerfully hurling insults left, right and centre.

Shooting Phase

Shooting was fantastic and bloody. Guns, arrows, stones - every level of tech was involved. In the end, it was the dark elves who paid. The champions of O-deck, fine marines every one of them, were gunned down to a manan elf. In spite of these terrible losses, Seaman Sprayes elected to remain on the field, proving his valour, bravery and considerable confusion are second to none.

Actions

Airbornegrove:

KBP1

Shot @ SOC, killed 3

KBP2

Shot @ SOC, killed 1

BT

Shot @ SOC, killed 2

E

Shot @ SOC, killed 9

A1C

Shot @ RGH, killed 1

C

Shot @ RLR, killed 3, +1 heat point

Thantsants:

RLR

Shot @ RGH, killed 0

CGC

Shot @ K3C, killed 0

***

"I can't believe he made him a seaman!"

Seaman Sprayes, hearing the hushed whispers, held up his hand.

"Company Halt!"

The dark elves, drilled to perfection by the recently deposed Gimiya Hanjohb, stopped dead and stood to attention.

Sprayes looked at Gimiya. "They're talking about me again."

Gimiya sighed. "So take control. You are the commanding officer, aren't you?"

"Righto, I bloody well will-"

"Perhaps," Gimiya said, gripping Sprayes by the arm, "we should first consider the position we're in? Whilst it's not for me to question your judgement, you have called us to a halt at the bottom of a cliff crested by armed elves who appear to be planning to shoot us? I think we should spread out."

Sprayes offered Gimiya a pained expression.

"Look, I know how it is in the marines - I've got to prove my worth - I get it."

He fixed Gimiya with a withering stare before starting to shout. "So that is what I plan to do! I think there is safety in numbers! My orders are to huddle closer together! Use our shields to defend ourselves!"

Seaman Sprayes held his hand up again.

"Company ...er... HUDDLE!"

Gimiya's jaw dropped. "Sir? Sprayes? Seriously? Huddle?"

The elves, not entirely sure what to do, all shuffled a little closer, allowing their shoulder plates to clink against each other encouragingly.

They looked at Gimiya, who shook his head.

They looked at Seaman Sprayes, who nodded his head.

Gimiya dejectedly pointed up to the sky.

"Shields! Up Shields! On Top! Y'know!" Seaman Sprayes screeched and waved, as he watched the cloud of arrows driving through the sky towards his spearmen.

The spearelves looked at each other. "Up shields?" once mouthed at another, just before an arrow punctured his neck.

The sudden cries of other elves suggested that the last order was not well understood. Three elves collapsed with arrows extended from their bodies.

"I'm telling you, Sprayes, we need to spread out!" Gimiya spat.

"And I'm telling you, Gimiya, we need to huddle up!"

Sprayes turned to face the unit.

"All of you! Listen to me! You need to huddle as close to each other as possible, okay? Nobody panic, I know what I'm doing!"

He watched as the spearmen squeezed themselves as close as their armour would allow, nodding his approval. "That's right. That's right. Nice and tight!"

Gimiya's eyes were daggers as he stared at Sprayes.

"You too, Gimiya - get in there!"

Gimiya wedged himself against his peers, who shuffled apart a little to allow him in.

Sprayes jumped in terror as the unit - his unit - having finally followed orders, were suddenly eviscerated by a great boulder.

"Oshitoshitoshit!" he squeaked, pointing at the rock in a futile gesture whilst holding his other hand over his mouth.

Having huddled so close together, the stone had all but flattened the elves in the centre. The outer elves had all been pushed outwards by the impact and now lay face down, facing all the directions of the compass, like a newly opened flower.

"Oshitoshitoshit!" he squeaked again, looking around. Where the hell did that come from?

Suddenly, he heard Gimiya groan. Looking down, he recognised his antagonistic adviser. "Gimiya! Gimiya! Get up! Get the men back in line!"

Seeing nothing happen apart from some groaning on Gimiya's behalf, Sprayes took it on himself to try to lift Gimiya up, positioning him so that he was on his knees. his back rested against the boulder. Sprayes could do no better - both of Gimiya's lower limbs were trapped by the stone.

"Sir! Yes Sir! Just trying to restore some order to the unit Sir! - On your feet, you mangy lot!" - this last directed at the hitherto breathing elves.

Master B'tor didn't stop, but spurred his cold one on past the squashed corpses. "They're all dead, Sprayes. Which is an awful pity, because I had high hopes for you and these marines. I fully expect you to avenge each and every one of these elves, okay? So, please find something useful to do before I kill you, hmm?"

Sprayes saluted the departing form of Master B'tor and his cold one, before issuing a vicious kick to Gimiya's head.

"Now look what you've gone and done! Bloody quitter!"

***

Reserves Phase

If you're new to 3rd edition, then you won't have heard of the reserves phase before. This was how march moves worked before they became march moves in later editions of Warhammer. essentially, any unengaged troops more than 4" away from the enemy are able to make another move. So everyone moved again. The witch elves, being engaged in the difficult business of climbing the cliff, are not eligible for a reserve move.

Perhaps the most interesting thing was Wineghum, the sneaky goblin shaman, goading his giant spider into spell casting range. By doing so, he also sneakily positioned himself between the black orcs and the boar riders, possibly limiting the impacts of animosity - always nice to see teamwork, Wineghum!

Actions

Airbornegrove:

I

Moved forward 3"

F

Moved forward 3"

S

Moved forward 3"

MF

Moved forward 3"

Thantsants:

SOC

Moved forward 2"

W

Moved forward 5" @ RGH right flank

Magic Phase

Long has it been the lament of Dreamfish and myself that the magic phases of our reports have been nothing other than honorary mentions.

Now the spell pretty much does what it says on the tin. It makes a mist, which, coming out of nowhere, one might consider to be 'mystical'.

That's what it does.

No one blew up.

No one was disintegrated.

No one had to make initiative tests or be sucked into some cross-dimensional beast's maw.

All that happened was that the dwarf warmachines, previously having enjoyed a pleasant and clear day, were now surrounded by fog. Of course, fog does cause problems with seeing things, which will make it harder for the warmachine crews to find targets.

But whilst I say 'all that happened' as if to minimise and diminish the event, allow me to pause and magnify the event! For, what you have seen here, is a tactical spell! Games workshop stopped producing tactical spells from Warhammer 4 onwards. Curious, because I think they could sell some Games-Workshop Cotton Wool (tm) especially for use with tactical spells that involve mist or smoke. Oh well...perhaps in Warhammer 9.

The other interesting thing with Mystic Mist is that it lasts 1D3 turns. Now that we have a games master, that particular dice-roll was made in secret, meaning that only Dreamfish actually knows how long the mist is there for - neither Thantsants nor Airbornegrove can 'bank' on their awareness of how long it might last - because they don't know!

Thursday, 8 November 2012

I'm feeling a bit ranty today. I've had a cold for two weeks now and frankly, I'd cheerfully microwave a rhinoceros and swallow the remains whole if I thought it would help.

Also, we're not yet done with the first turn of the Bridge Over the River Chai. Which is probably what you actually came here hoping to see. Soon, pet.

Soon.

So, I thought I'd have a rant instead.

When I started the blog, I had a page describing my reasons for the name, which were also largely my reasons for engaging my time machine and heading back to the eighties for some decent wargaming.

Then, one day, I read through the thing again and I found it to be, well, quite angry. It was written just after the most unsatisfying game of Warhammer I'd ever played. I unpublished the page, with a view to coming back and revisiting the thing at some time.

Battle Navigator

Rules and Deployment (you are here)

The Gaming Set-up

The game will be played out on a 4' by 6' table, which is depicted below.

Scenario

The Percolator is carried in a small chest which is being transported in an elven warwain (a four horse chariot). The Wood Elf contingent has been tasked with protecting the warwain and the Percolator. The Wood Elves are descending into the Chai valley from the north. The chariot is not present in the Wood Elf army list, as this is a GM controlled unit - see the Rules below.

The Dwarves are waiting for the elves on the southern side of the river Chai and have set up camp. Of course, the Dwarves are here to collect the Percolator from the elves. Remember that Dwarves and Elves are uneasy bed-fellows (except, of course, for the ill-fated lovers Fasten Luuhs and Testo Sterone!). Players are reminded that Dwarves suffer Animosity towards Elves and that Elven characters may never join Dwarf units. In spite of their racial differences, the Elven contingent will require all the help they can get to transfer the Percolator to the Dwarves.

The Orcs and the Dark Elves have elected to separate their contingent commands and try to close in on the Percolator in a pincer movement as it crosses the valley. The Dark Elves approach form the west, with the orcs approaching from the east.

Although the overall purpose of the fight is to secure the Percolator, players are advised to take not of the victory conditions - the holder of the Percolator can still lose the battle! Capturing the Percolator whilst maintaining battlefield superiority is the key to overcoming the enemy in this scenario.

Rules

The game will be played using the Warhammer Fantasy Battles 3rd edition rules, and these House Rules. A GM helps the players interpreting or even making up rules if they are needed. 1

Chariot: The chariot transports the Percolator and is a GM controlled unit. The chariot type is heavy, equipped with scythed wheels, counts as having no crew and is running amok. All normal rules apply for the chariot, with the exception that the GM determines all rules concerning damage, direction and capturing of the Percolator. The Percolator can be captured by a character in base-to-base contact with the chariot or at a distance by using magic (like the Move Object spell). The exact rules are determined on the spot.

Percolator: The Percolator holds magical powers for characters who control it. A character can use the Percolator to prepare K'fe, which enhances a characteristic of the character and the unit he's up to 1 point for the duration of one turn. Furthermore, units within 12" of a friendly controller may re-roll the result of a rout or +1 Ld on a rally test. To prepare K'fe, the character and the unit he's with must stay stationary for one turn. A preparing character and the unit he's with, may shoot and/or use magic. Preparation fails when attacked. K'fe must be taken at the start of the following turn and the player declares which characteristic is affected.

Baggage: The Dwarf baggage area holds 500 payment points for mercenary troops. 2 This is represented by barrels containing beer. It takes one turn to loot 250 points. Mercenary troops will automatically switch sides when the baggage area is captured. The baggage area is guarded by the War Engine Battery, instead of the normal alloted amount of civilians. The War Engine Battery must be placed inside the baggage area. The War Engine Battery is not taken out of battle, but must stay inside and protect the baggage area. 3

Orc: control or destroy bridges; 100 VP for each controlled or destroyed bridge

Orc: capture/loot opponent's baggage; 50 VP when being looted or 100 VP when captured at end of game

Dwarf: prevent bridges from being destroyed; 100 VP for each controlled and undamaged bridge

Deployment

Below a strategical overview of the battlefield and the available deployment zones. Some of the unit deployments are predetermined by the scenario and cannot be altered. The following conditions apply:

The Dwarfs start the game

The Orc Man Manger is operational at the start of turn 2

1. Although it is possible to fight a game without a Gamesmaster, it will be much quicker and far easier to fight with the aid of an impartial Gamesmaster (usually abbreviated to GM), see WFB3, p. 35↩